


Did You Really Not Know?

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [124]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Drunk!Steve, Drunkenness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 06:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15813468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: There are probably weirder things than finding out your roommate is a stripper.





	Did You Really Not Know?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Pole dancer AU. Prompt from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

There are probably weirder things than finding out your roommate is a stripper. Finding out that aliens are real and that one of them killed JFK, for instance. Or that your cat can speak Russian. Or that Ben Affleck really is Batman.

But for Steve, the roommate/stripper thing was right there at the top. Mostly because Thor wasn’t just _a_ stripper; he was a damned good one, according to Steve’s best friend, Tony, and well, Tony would know.

“I’m not gonna say I’m a connoisseur of the fine arts,” Tony said, swirling the words around with his drink, “but your roommate’s got a hell of a dick.”

Steve’s face was a three-alarm and he felt like he was choking. He couldn’t remember how sentences worked. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. He wanted to hide under the table.

He couldn’t make himself look away.

On the stage, Thor was still going. His clothes might’ve been gone--some kind of Viking-looking getup now cast to the wings--but he was moving confidently to the music, smirking at every catcall, the tight red snug of his g-string leaving absolute zero question that Tony was right: Thor did have a hell of a dick.

Thor, the religion major. Thor, whose work ethic made Steve feel like a slacker, _Steve,_ who’d never pulled less than an A in four years of undergrad and three into his PhD. Thor, who kept the kitchen clean and always took the trash out and tolerated Tony banging on their door at two AM when he was loud and too drunk to drive home--and/or too sober to stay out of Steve’s bed. Whichever. Point was, Thor was an exceptional person to share a place with: he kept to himself, he was neat, he always paid his share of the rent on time. And in cash--wrinkled twenties, a few fifties, topped off by a rough stack of ones.

Oh, god.

Tony, of course, wasn’t bothered, couldn’t see the awkward; he was hollering along with the rest of the room as Thor stroked himself through the cloth, biting his lip, and looking for all the world like if somebody had said the right thing, could make themselves heard over the sonic blast of the music, Thor would slide down off the stage and spread himself out for their touch.

Steve did look away then, his head too heavy with things he didn’t want to imagine, things his beer-soaked brain was dying for him to see:

Thor stretched out on their sofa, naked, one hand on his cock, the other beckoning Steve.

Thor sitting on the edge of his bed, his jeans open; his mouth, too.

Thor looming above him, taking up the whole sky, murmuring something soft and forever as he pushed in, the smile never leaving his eyes.

There was a roar, a bellowing cheer, and Steve was back in the club, back in the booth, back in his slack-jawed body watching Thor give up a wink as he gave one final shimmy and ducked off the stage.

“Goddamn,” Tony said in the sudden silence. “I don’t know about you, man, but I need another drink.”

“Whiskey,” Steve got out, his throat dry, a man dying of an unexpected thirst. “Like a big one. Please.”

*****

  
“Have you been holding out on me?” Tony asked in the Uber a few hours later. “Or did you really not know?”

Steve spread his hands. “I told you! I had no idea. Why's that so hard for you to believe?”

“Because I would’ve known. I’d have seen something.”

“Yeah, ok, Sherlock.”

“Glitter his laundry, maybe. Or the crushed hopes of horny bachelorette parties spilling out of his pockets and pooling under the couch.”

“It’s not like you’ve never met before,” Steve said, leaning his head back against the seat. “You’ve known him almost as long as I have but you never noticed anything.”

“Ah, ah,” Tony said in that placid way that meant he was fantastically smashed, “but see, I wasn’t looking. If I had been, you bet your ass I’d have sniffed that out.”

Steve laughed, laughed and freaking laughed. “You didn’t even think he was cute! You told me he was too Scandinavian for you, too clean living and cold water or some shit. And now you’re telling me you were ten minutes from discovering his secret stripper identity? Sure, Tony. Sure.”

Tony shrugged, his shoulder brushing Steve’s in the dark. “Yeah, well. I’m the one who dragged you out there tonight, aren’t I? Emphasis on dragged. So I get some of the credit, damn it, accidental discovery or not.”

“Never again! Never freaking again.”

“Aw,” Tony said with a snicker. “You had a good time tonight, Stevie. Admit it.”

“I don’t know if good’s the word I’d go for.”

“You’re just mad he didn’t do another set.”

“Tony!”

“Uh huh. Don’t try and deny it.”

There was a retort there, somewhere, but all Steve could come up with was: “Shut up.”

The car started to slow. “Well,” Tony said, peering out the side window, “speak of the devil. You’re home. Are you going to say something? Or just pray he didn’t see you?”

Steve blushed, that solid red creep from before. “Um--”

“Because he totally made eye contact with me. A good three seconds or so. He’s gonna know, Steve. You might as well cop to it.” A grin, wide and lascivious. “Or just cop a feel and see where it goes from there.”

“I’m not gonna--!”

Tony caught him by the collar of his coat, shook him a little in the sudden bright of the streetlight. “Of course you’re not,” he said. “Because you’re Steve fucking Rogers, Professional Boy Scout, and even if you wanted Thor to nail you to the nearest floor with his glorious dick, you’d never tell him that, would you?”

“What?”

Tony tugged him close and kissed him, unsteady and boozy and incredibly kind. “Say something,” he murmured. “Believe me. You’ll regret it but good if you don’t.”

*****

  
Upstairs, the house was quiet. The porchlight had been left on but that could’ve been the ladies in the lower half of the duplex, Nat and Wanda; they both had late classes sometimes. Maybe today was a sometime. Maybe today was--Steve frowned, stabbed his key at the lock--was day was today, anyway?

Late, his brain told him, pickled, the taste of rail whiskey thick on his teeth. Closer to day than to night.

He slipped inside and toed off his shoes, reached down to pat Loki as she wound herself around his ankle, her silky fur soft under his fingers. Soft.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered, or tried to. It was hard to make his words be quiet. “Thor here?”

The lights were off in the kitchen, the living room, and the hall, but there was a strip of bright at the end of it beneath the door that was Thor’s. Steve’s heart flipped over. Or maybe that was his stomach. Ok, so Thor was here. Of course he was; he _lived_ here. Nothing weird about it. Except that he was still up at what-the-fuck o’clock in the morning, for some reason.

 _Waiting for you_? Steve’s head said hopefully.

 _No_ , he told himself, may have even said aloud. He wasn’t totally sure. Point was, once again: No. Thor probably had a test coming up or a paper due in two weeks that he was already pounding away on and what better time to focus than now, when the whole world was asleep and Thor’s wallet was fat from all those bills he’d had to pull out of his--

Steve reached for the nearest wall and gave his forehead. Kinda harder than he meant to.

“Ow,” he said. Definitely out loud that time, he knew it, because he could hear it in his ears.

“Steven?”

Steve froze, pressed his palm against the wall and told it to stop moving, told it to stand the hell still.

A sudden shot of light, the creak of Thor’s door. “Steven?” Thor said, that low, familiar rumble. “Are you ill?”

“No,” Steve said, waving his free hand in Thor’s general direction. “Nope. Not sick. Just super smashed.”

Thor touched his shoulder. “Ah. You’ve been out with Stark, then.”

“Heh heh. Does it show?”

Another hand on him, this one nudged against the small of his back. “Only in your inability to stand and the slur of your speech, yes.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Ok.”

“Come on,” Thor said gently, so gently. So sweet. “You should be in bed. It’s late.”

Steve closed his eyes--walking was way easier that way--and followed Thor’s lead, let himself be lead. He knew somewhere that his room was close, like five steps, and yet the trip felt lots longer than that, more twisty, but Thor held on to him. Thor didn’t let him fall.

“Sorry I bothered you,” Steve said.

“You didn’t. I was just reading.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“Probably could have.” They paused; Steve heard the click of a doorknob. “But I was waiting up for you.”

“Pffffft. Why?”

A shuffle forward, a step. “Because,” Thor said, “I worry when you’re out with Tony. He doesn’t know his own limits. Or have a lot of respect for yours.”

Steve’s toes caught on carpet and oh, god: they were in his room. He let out a sob of relief. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until now, how badly he wanted to be in his own bed. How badly he needed to sleep.

Thor’s arms around him were tighter now, pushing, guiding. “Sit down,” he said. “Steve, here. It’s your bed. Come on, that’s it.”

Steve felt his hands moving like they weren’t his, like he didn’t have any say over what they did anymore, where they went. Who they wanted to touch. “Thor,” he said.

“Hmmm? Wait, wait. Don’t lay down just yet. Let’s get your coat off, ok?”

“Thor,” he said again, pliant, letting Thor peel down his sleeves.

“Yes, Steven?”

“Saw you tonight. Me and Tony did.”

“Did you?” Light and fluffy, the words. Like nothing was wrong. Like nothing was weird.

“Yeah. At your work. We went there.”

The coat was gone. Good. Now Thor’s fingers were plucking at buttons, decoding Steve’s shirt.

“You did, huh?” Thor said.

“Yeah.”

“And how did you know it was mine?”

Steve frowned. Huh? “How did--what?”

Thor reached for Steve’s wrists, for his cuffs. “How did you know that I worked there?”

“Saw you,” Steve said again. The shirt slid off his shoulders, bared his t-shirt, the back of his neck. “Duh, Thor. I already told you. Weren’t you listening?”

Thor chuckled. “I heard you just fine.”

“Then why are you trying to confuse me?”

“I’m not.” Thor touched his cheek, which was--huh. New. Or maybe he only did it when Steve was drunk and Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this drunk so maybe Thor had done it then and he’d forgotten it. Probably. “You’ve got all the booze Stark fed you to thank for that.”

“Oh,” Steve said. He tried to nod but that was bad. Bad bad. Went back to talking. “Uh huh. Yep.”

Thor’s thumb turned and scraped down Steve’s cheek. It was big and broad and it chased over Steve’s mouth, it did. Just the tip. “I suppose,” Thor said, “I have Stark to thank myself for some things. But we can talk about that in the morning. When you can remember your own name.”

Steve laughed. Know his name? Sure he did. And more than that, too.  “Duh,” he said. “I’m Steve, your roommate. And you’re Thor. You’re a stripper. And you’ve got a really big cock.”

**Author's Note:**

> This one got very silly but hey! It's the prompt's fault. And I love writing drunk!Steve.


End file.
